


Christmas in the Tower: an Essential How-To Guide

by Word_Addict



Series: Deck the Halls (of Avengers Tower) [2]
Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Doctor Strange (2016), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Broken Bones, Chaotic Neutral Loki, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Tree, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Destruction, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gift Giving, Hot Chocolate, Inspired By Tumblr, Kissing, Lovers to Friends, Male-Female Friendship, Mistletoe, Romantic Fluff, Santa is for Everyone, Shopping Malls, Sledding, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Word_Addict/pseuds/Word_Addict
Summary: or: a series of Christmas drips and drabbles focusing on the various inhabitants of Avengers Tower and how they celebrate Christmas.





	1. deck the halls with boughs of...popcorn?

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr post I saw on Pinterest, I'm going to try and post one for every day of Advent (including catch-up ones for the first three days of Christmas) and each one will (hopefully) focus on different characters.
> 
> Prompt: "Person A strings popcorn on the tree while Person B eats all the popcorn"

Anyone walking into the kitchens of the Tower should have been prepared for anything by now, and, yet, Tony was still shocked when he entered the room to see Peter apparently trying to re-create a blizzard with nothing but popcorn.

“Kid, what are you doing?” he asked, staring at the mounds of white that were sitting on the counter, spilling out of the largest mixing bowls in the kitchen.

Peter looked up from where he was sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen, holding a needle and thread. “Making popcorn strings,” he said. “It’s a tradition.”

The Stark family hiring an interior decorator every Christmas since he was a kid hadn’t really lent itself to things like ‘traditions’ and Peter must have realized it because after a minute he clarified his statement. “They go on the tree.”

“The tree,” Tony repeated, wondering if he’d heard wrong. Why would anyone put popcorn on a Christmas tree?

“Yeah,” Peter replied, picking up a kernel and carefully threading the needle through it without ruining anything.

Tony shrugged, giving up on figuring out what exactly was going on and walking past Peter to try and find the coffee maker. “Okay, kid. Have fun.”

The coffee maker turned out to be not that hard to find after all, and Tony had no trouble finding a mug since Steve and Bruce were both in the habit of consistently washing the dishes. Soon, he was making his way back out of the kitchen, picking his way around the piles of snack food.

“Do you want to help, Mr. Stark?”

The question caught Tony off guard. “What?” he asked, turning around to look at Peter.

The kid repeated his question, gesturing to the stool next to him. “There’s lots to do – do you want to help?”

Childhood in the Stark home might not have leant itself to traditions, but maybe it was time to start learning some new ones, Tony figured. Sitting down beside the kid, he grabbed a handful of popcorn and started handing it to Peter one piece at a time.

And if more of it ended up being eaten than actually going on the tree, it probably didn’t matter that much anyway.


	2. rockin' around the christmas tree (and under the mistletoe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presumably takes place after Ant-Man and the Wasp, but doesn't really conform to canon (especially the end-credits scene).
> 
> Prompt is: "Your OTP gets caught under the mistletoe"

“What do you think, Cassie?” Scott asked, holding up two different ornaments. One was a small picture frame with their faces in it. Both of them were grinning, their faces stained with red and green frosting from the cookies they had been baking and decorating. The other was a pinecone covered with paint and rolled in glitter that Cassie had made in kindergarten. “Which one is it?”

Cassie scrunched up her nose as she looked between the two choices. “Both of them!” she decided finally, pointing at the Christmas tree that was practically falling over with all the ornaments, tinsel, lights, and garland it was covered with.

Scott laughed, carefully hanging both decorations on the tree. “Looks great, kiddo.”

“That tree has enough Christmas decorations on it for the whole house.”

Cassie and Scott turned around at the same time to see Hope coming in through the door, still dressed in her lab coat. She paused to take off her shoes and froze when Cassie started laughing again.

“What’s so funny?” she asked with a smile.

Standing up, Scott started laughing as well. “You know how we decorated the house today?” he asked rhetorically. “Well, Cassie insisted – her idea, just so we’re clear – that we should put up mistletoe.”

Hope was caught off-guard for a moment, and then chuckled. “Scott, did you actually…” Looking up, she saw a small sprig of mistletoe tacked to the ceiling right above where she was standing. “You did,” she answered herself, still laughing.

“Kiss him, kiss him!” Cassie chanted, bouncing up and down.

Scott grinned. “C’mon, you wouldn’t want to disappoint the kid, would you?”

Hope rolled her eyes and took a step towards Scott. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint myself either,” she said with a grin.


	3. you're never too old for santa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Natasha are the best!!!
> 
> Prompt: "Person A demands to take a picture with Santa, even though they’re way too old. Person B is amused and annoyed."

“We _have_ to. It’s a Christmas tradition!” Clint protested.

Natasha watched him with a stony expression. “It’s for children.”  

Clint sighed dramatically. “You say that about _everything,_ Nat.”

Without saying a word, Natasha looked at the families that had gathered around them. Even for someone who liked being around kids this was a lot, and everyone who knew her knew that if someone was to make a list of all the most likely babysitters, her name would be dead last.

Clint followed her point of view around the plaza and then, changing his tactics, he gestured to the mall around them, somewhat hampered by the full shopping bags he was holding. “You had fun today, didn’t you?” he challenged.

Natasha shrugged. “Yes,” she said simply.

“Exactly,” Clint said with the tone of someone who had just brought forth a major concession. “So, we should do this because a) it’s a Christmas tradition and b) it’s fun.”

“You’re missing the point,” Natasha said, waving a hand to the fake snow and glittering Christmas trees covering the display in front of them that took up two-thirds of the open space. “This is _literally_ for children.”

Clint paused for a moment and scrutinized the crowd of children and parents forming a loose semblance of a line. “You’re only as old as you feel,” he proclaimed philosophically, before abandoning his bags and darting forwards. “Besides, Santa is for everyone!” he called over his shoulder.

Natasha sighed again, barely suppressing a grin as she slid her phone out of her pocket. She would never admit that she thought it was hilarious, but she knew Stark would appreciate looking at the pictures later at least as much as she would.


	4. o christmas tree, how lovely were thy branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki, Peter, and Bruce FTW! 
> 
> In this story, Loki is more of a chaotic neutral figure. I tried to explain it a little but please tell me if it came off a little half-assed. Also, this chapter is almost double the length to make up for the fact that this is December 10 and I'm working on the fourth chapter.
> 
> Prompt: "Person A accidentally breaking all the Christmas ornaments while Person B watches, horrified."

Peter carefully wound the last of the popcorn strings around the branches of the Christmas tree in the living room. Suddenly, there was a flash of green light in the corner and Loki materialized.

“Hello,” he said coolly as Peter spun around to stare at him.

“Uh, hi,” Peter stuttered, tucking the end of the string into the tree. “What are you doing here?”

Loki shrugged, sauntering over to the Christmas tree. “Can’t I come to wish everyone a merry Christmas?” he asked.

Peter was suddenly grateful for the fact he hadn’t taken off his suit upon coming to the Tower. Even though his Spidey-sense wasn’t going off, it might still come in handy. “Not really?” he said, aware it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“If you’re worried about a fight, don’t be,” Loki said, staring at Peter like he could see right through him. “Your team of heroes and I have come to an…agreement of sorts.” He took another step closer to the tree, looking over the decorations. “No world domination or invading armies or any of that, and in return I’m allowed to come and go as I please.”

“Okay,” Peter said, relaxing slightly. “So, what are you doing here?”

Loki turned to look at him, his eyes a brilliant green. “I would like to make a wager with you.”

“Like a dare?” Peter asked.

“If you want to call it that,” Loki said with a short nod.

Peter grinned, extending a hand. “Sure.”

0o0o0

Bruce stared at himself in the reflection of the stainless-steel fridge. He had thought ugly Christmas sweaters were one tradition he could have dodged, but Bruce and Natasha had managed to produce six of them, slightly crooked patterns notwithstanding.

With a sigh, he pulled open the fridge and grabbed Thor’s homemade eggnog. It was surprisingly good, even though the kitchen had ended up a disaster – somewhat like the cookies incident.

A loud series of _thumps_ and _crashes_ from the living room startled him into nearly spilling the eggnog. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to stay calm, he ran around the corner against his better judgement.

In the living room, Peter was swinging around the room in his suit, chasing a small black cat. “Hi, Mr. Bruce!” he shouted, waving with one hand as he clung to the ceiling with the other.

“Peter, what is going on?” Bruce demanded, ducking as one of the ornaments from the tree flew past his head. The cat was nestled in the branches, staring at him with intense green eyes, and Bruce could almost swear it recognized him.

“Loki dared me,” Peter explained as he prepared to jump towards the tree. “He said if I – “ The last words were drowned out in Bruce’s shout as Peter launched himself across the room towards the Douglas fir.

Bruce could only watch as the twelve-foot tree toppled to the floor in a thundering crash, scattering ornaments, popcorn, and branches everywhere. Peter jumped to the side, clinging to the wall and staring at the destruction with a sheepish expression.

“Oops.”

Bruce stared at Peter for a long moment, ignoring the cat that crawled out from under the toppled tree. It looked at the both of them, shook its head, and then, with a wink and a swirl of green it transformed into a large raven and flew out the open window.

“Loki,” Bruce muttered in recognition.

Peter nodded. “See, I told you, Mr. Bruce.” In one swift motion, he jumped to the window. “I have to find Loki now, see you later!” he called over his shoulder, swinging out the window.

Left behind in the wreckage of the living room, Bruce sighed deeply and took a long sip of eggnog. _This is going to be a long Christmas._


	5. it's lovely weather for a sled dare together with you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one! A direct sequel to the last chapter! Featuring more Bruce and a nice dose of Clint/Natasha! 
> 
> Again, I have no idea how American hospitals work, but I did my best to hand-wave it away.
> 
> Prompt: "Your OTP goes sledding (bonus points if one of them breaks a bone)"

Bruce turned from the destruction of the Christmas tree to watch Clint and Natasha walk into the living room together. “What happened?” he asked, seeing the blue cast encasing Clint’s wrist.

“Sledding,” Natasha said, making her way to the couch and flopping onto it. “Do we have any alcohol?”

Bruce held out his mug. “Thor made eggnog,” he said in explanation.

Taking it with a grateful expression, Natasha took a long drink. “So, we went shopping,” she started.

“It was amazing,” Clint said, still staring at the wreckage of what had been, until that morning, a gorgeous twelve-foot Douglas fir. “Santa was there.”

“Santa?” Bruce asked.

Natasha was already tapping at her phone. “Here,” she said, showing Bruce the photos. Clint was standing beside a Santa with a child in his lap, while a group of elves crowded into the frame. “I’m going to make it our new Christmas card.”

“Great idea!” Clint enthused, making his way over the couch and taking over the end Natasha hadn’t already claimed. “What happened to the tree?”

Bruce sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said, re-claiming his now mostly empty mug. “It involves a shapeshifting Loki and a very hyper Peter.”

“You know,” Clint said thoughtfully, “for a ‘traditional Christmas’ we seem to be breaking a lot of traditions.”

Bruce shrugged. “I think that’s a tradition in and of itself, isn’t it?”

“Like any of us would know,” Natasha said, cracking a smile.

“Anyway,” the scientist said, “what happened to your wrist?”

Clint sat up and spread his arms wide. “Okay, so picture this. A hill, and not just any hill but a _great_ sledding hill. The kind of hill you only see in movies. 45-degree angle, untouched snow as far as the eye can see and not a single tree in sight.”

“Sounds great,” Bruce agreed.

Clint kept talking as Natasha sat up and regarded both of them with a look that was equal parts fond annoyance and frustration. “So, what better way to enjoy this hill than on a dare?”

“Where did you get the sled?” Bruce cut in, putting his drained mug on the miraculously untouched coffee table.

Clint and Natasha exchanged an unreadable look before answering in unison. “It doesn’t matter – You don’t want to know.”

“Okay,” Bruce agreed. “So, you dared each other to go down the hill?”

“Not exactly,” Natasha said. “Clint made a bet with me that he could reach the bottom of the hill in less than twenty seconds.”

“How tall was the hill?” Bruce asked, now entirely invested in the story.

Clint shrugged. “Seventy-five feet, give or take a couple feet. Anyway, I took the bet because, seriously, why _not_? I was going pretty fast, but not fast enough – “

“ – and there was a bump in the hill,” Natasha interrupted, gently kicking Clint in the ribs.

Clint grabbed her foot and tucked it under one of his knees. “There was a bump in the hill,” he repeated, “and the next thing I know, I’m going ass over teakettle down this hill.”

“One trip to the hospital later and we’ve got this,” Natasha finished the story. “Turns out being on Stark’s insurance makes doctors move a hell of a lot faster.”

Bruce nodded. “Interesting,” he said.

Natasha’s response was drowned out by the sound of another _crash._ Peter swung into the room and landed in a heap against the far wall. Jumping up, he started talking a mile a minute. “Hey, did you guys see Loki? He’s a cat now, or maybe a bird – he seems to like ravens. I don’t know where he went, but he disappeared again. Sorry about the tree, Mr. Bruce, I can find you a new one or maybe help you get one – I’ll definitely decorate it for you – “

“Holy crap, slow down kid,” Clint interrupted him. “What’s going on?”

Peter whipped his head around to look at the three of them. “Oh, hi, Mr. Clint. I just had all of Starbucks holiday drinks.”

“ _All_ of them?” Natasha, Clint, and Bruce said in unison.

Nodding quickly, Peter shot a string of webbing to the ceiling outside the room. “Yeah. They don’t have that much coffee in them and my metabolism’s super-fast anyway and Loki dared me that I couldn’t so I had to prove him wrong and now I need to find him so I can prove I did it.” Finishing the sentence all in one breath, Peter swung away with a shouted, “See you guys later!”

The group on the couch stared after him. “So,” Clint finally said. “Loki, eh?”

“He  _is_ the God of Mischief,” Bruce said dryly, standing and picking up his mug and heading to the kitchen to wash it out.


	6. hot chocolate and (possibly) attempted poisonings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter I'm going to post for the next couple of days - finals are heating up and I have to study as much as possible. This chapter is another slightly longer one, though, so hopefully you won't be too mad at me.
> 
> This chapter ties into the When the Avengers meet the Guardians series, but it's probably the only one in this story to do that. If you want, you can assume this is in an alternate universe; it really doesn't matter that much (and hopefully I don't make any of you cringe at the characterization). 
> 
> Pairing: Gamora/Peter. Prompt: "Person A spills hot chocolate all over Person B"

Gamora stared at the mug Peter had placed in front of her. She had managed to get used to the fact that humans apparently not only consumed caffeine but _enjoyed_ it, but this was something else altogether.

“What is this?” she asked.

Peter took a seat across from her and took a sip from his own mug, decorated with what she now knew were snowmen wearing red and blue scarves. “Hot chocolate,” he answered. “It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“Hot chocolate,” Gamora repeated. She knew what chocolate was, she even enjoyed it occasionally, but this didn’t share anything in common with the dark bars she sometimes liked eating. This had a sharp, almost cold smell to it. “What exactly is in this?”

“Let’s see,” Peter said, thoughtfully. “Hot chocolate mix, water, cocoa powder, a tiny bit of vanilla, and mint.”

 _Mint._ Gamora stared at Peter. Caffeine had taken some getting used to – the fact that Terrans regularly consumed and enjoyed something the vast amount of the galaxy considered poison had been a bit jarring initially, but it wasn’t that shocking considering some of the things the rest of the crew of the _Milano_ got up to – but this had to be some sort of misunderstanding on Peter’s part.

“What?” Peter asked, taking another sip. “What’s wrong?”

She never knew how she moved so quickly, only that she managed to lunge across the table and wrest Peter’s mug away from him with most of it spilling onto his leather jacket and not his skin. “Peter, you put mint in this,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed readily, leaning away from her slightly.

Gamora kept staring at him. “Do you know how dangerous that is?” she asked. “There are innumerable assassins who use this poison in their work.”

They held eye contact for a long minute and then Peter did the last thing Gamora expected. He started laughing.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mora,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s just that – well, you remember coffee?”

Gamora sighed, already guessing what he was going to say next. “Yes,” she said shortly, sitting back in her own chair. “Is mint not dangerous to Terrans?”

“Not exactly,” Peter said with a sheepish smile. He looked at the puddle of hot chocolate on the table and floor where his mug was overturned and then back to Gamora. “Are you going to drink that?”

Gamora could feel the heat in her face. “No,” she answered sharply, hating being humiliated yet _again_ by a Terran custom she knew nothing about.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter said, taking the mug she shoved at him. “Terrans are all pretty much insane, anyway. What other species would deliberately eat poison?”

Gamora rolled her eyes in agreement, smiling thinly. “You aren’t wrong,” she admitted.

“Do you want to try some?” Peter asked, offering her the mug again.

Gamora accepted it gingerly. The smell was still sharp and cold, but she took a small sip anyways. t would take a significant amount of poison to harm her anyway, because of her modifications. It burned her throat, and she shook her head, pushing the mug back across the table to Peter.

“I might love you, Peter, but don’t ever give me mint again,” she said firmly.

Peter stared at her silently and the full impact of her words hit her like an explosion. _Oh, no._ Those words had only been said a few times before between them and never this casually. She stood up to leave.

Peter stood up with her. “It’s okay,” he said. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the usual smirk he wore – brash and unafraid of danger. It was the smile he reserved for her – shy and open, almost afraid of being vulnerable. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it,” Gamora replied, her heart beating faster as she closed the distance between them. “Why would I say something I don’t mean?” Grabbing Peter’s jacket, she pulled him in for a kiss.

He still tasted faintly of mint, but Gamora ignored it, pressing her tongue lightly into his mouth. Peter turned his head, slotting their mouths together, and wrapped his arms around her. Pulling back slightly, he murmured, “I love you, too,” against her mouth, his breath warm against her face.

For something started with what she had assumed to be an attempted poisoning, this wasn’t a bad ending, Gamora figured as she pulled Peter close again.


	7. faithful friends who are dear to us gather near once more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to upload! This is the last chapter for this Christmas (that somehow extended itself to New Years) and I hope it ends on a satisfactory note.
> 
> Prompt: "Your OTP* trying to wrap Christmas presents and failing miserably"
> 
> *not quite OTP in this chapter, but I feel it works.

Stephen grumbled under his breath as he stared at the table in front of him. “It shouldn’t be this hard to wrap a damn present,” he muttered, surveying the mess of wrapping paper scraps, ribbon, and tape. He looked at the little box in front of him and sighed heavily before picking it up and sliding another square of paper underneath it.

Carefully folding one half of the paper over the other, he pinned it down with one hand and reached for the tape dispenser. Tearing a piece had been easy enough with two hands even before the – even before, he reflected sourly.

Finally managing to tear off a slightly too-long piece, he attached it to the paper and turned his attention to the ends of the box. Wishing for the days when he was able to make his Christmas gifts look professionally wrapped, he carefully forced his hands to work in sync with other and fold the corners of the wrapping paper in.

The sudden ringing of his phone interrupted him from wrestling with the tape yet again and he fumbled for it with one hand. “Hello?” he asked.

“Stephen?” Christine asked.  “I’m here.”

“Just a moment,” he said quickly. “I’ll be right out.”

“All right,” she said, a tinge of laughter in her voice. Stephen knew she could sense how flustered he was and was probably smiling about it on the other end of the line.

The thought didn’t bring him as much annoyance as it once would have, and he managed to hang up the phone and finish wrapping the gift so none of it was showing through the paper. It was hideous in his opinion, the paper bunching at the corners and held in place with far too much tape but hopefully Christine wouldn’t notice or care. He stood up, making sure his sling ring was on his hand, and headed for the door.

Sure enough, Christine was on the front step of the Sanctum Sanctorum, cheeks pink from the wind and small strands of hair escaping from the bun she’d put it in. “Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” Stephen nodded, feeling suddenly awkward. The words he’d shouted at her – _we were barely even lovers_ – came back to him with a vengeance and he mentally shoved them away. “Where would you like to go?” he asked. "I can take us anywhere you'd like."

“What do you mean?” Christine narrowed her eyes. “Is this part of your weird cult?”

“It’s not a cult,” Stephen sighed, “but yes, in a way.”

Christine shook her head. “All right,” she said defiantly. “England.”

 _Must we?_ Stephen thought, already summoning a portal. It opened onto a deserted street in London that was lit only by a few streetlamps. “After you,” he invited.

Christine shook her head. “You go first,” she insisted.

Stepping through the portal, Stephen kept it open long enough for Christine to follow him and then closed it neatly. “It’s around one in the morning,” he said, anticipating her next question.

Christine rolled her eyes, still smiling. “So, is there a reason you asked me out again after all this time?”

Stephen took a deep breath and produced the poorly-wrapped gift. “I wanted to apologize,” he said, voice shaking almost as much as his hands.

“What?” Christine asked, making no move to take the present.

“I was wrong,” he pushed on, the words coming easier now. “I acted like a complete asshole to you and that wasn’t right. I’m, well, I suppose I’m asking for your forgiveness.”

Christine shook her head with a smile. “You’re _apologizing,_ ” she echoed. “The great Stephen Strange, admitting he was wrong.”

Stephen chuckled dryly. “Not so great anymore, I’m afraid,” he said, holding out the gift again.

Christine took the package and looked it over. “It looks – “

“ – terrible, I know.”

“Just fine,” Christine said, sliding her fingers under the tape and tearing open the paper to reveal a small box. Taking the top off the box, she was shocked to see a watch. It was in perfect condition and she picked it up almost reverently, turning it over to see the inscription she expected on the back. “You fixed it,” she whispered.

“I know we can’t go back to what we were, Christine, but I was hoping we could move forward,” Stephen explained, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “As friends, of course.”

Christine nodded, returning the top to the box and slipping it back into her pocket. “I think that would work very nicely.” She took a step closer to Stephen and threaded one of her arms through his. “Now, since we’re already here, why don’t we take a nice long walk through London.”

“As long as we don’t go too close to Baker Street,” Stephen said. “I have a cousin who lives there – completely insufferable man.”

“Like you?” Christine teased.

Stephen smiled crookedly. “Worse, if you can imagine it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends this story! I hope I didn't butcher anyone too badly and hopefully some of you caught the reference I snuck in there.


End file.
